


wanna blow off steam

by dunkindonts



Series: sugar how'd you get so fly [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Frottage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Riding, Sex Pollen, mentioned KuroDai - Freeform, soft sadist sugawara koushi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 05:23:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12857670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dunkindonts/pseuds/dunkindonts
Summary: “You’re not taking advantage of me. This is all a-okay, unless -” Suga takes a step back from the warmth of Oikawa’s body, an impressive feat if how fogged over his eyes are is any indication of lucidity. “Unless you don’t want to?”“No, I.” Oikawa swallows. “I want to.”





	wanna blow off steam

**Author's Note:**

> big big thanks to the spicy squad over on twitter for cheerleading me through this and to laura, caps, and nebs for looking over things when i asked at weird hours!! i've been meaning to write some oisuga for a while and tbh i'm p hype this is my first finished work
> 
> title is from fob's 20 dollar nose bleed <3

The alert doesn’t come in until after Suga’s kicked off his shoes, thrown Oikawa’s requested coffeeshop cookie at his head, and face planted onto the couch. His phone buzzes obnoxiously loud right as he’s about to doze off and he clicks it to silent, ignoring the shaking in his hand as he curls back up under the blanket. 

There’s a thump as Oikawa’s desk chair presumably rolls into something and then Suga’s roommate is draped in the entrance to his room, alternating his intense gaze between his phone and Suga’s head. “Suga-chan, you walk home through the central square, don’t you?”

“Mmpfh.” Suga says, mostly to the pillow.

“Are you experiencing any chills, excessive sweating, tremors, insatiable sexual urges, etcetera?”

Suga sits up, now hyper aware of his body’s inability to decide whether he’s hot or cold and the way his hands are trembling. “Why?”

“Campus security just announced that someone released an aphrodisiac at the rally today and that anybody who walked by should check themselves out.” 

“Shit.” Suga’s bangs fall over his face when he drops his head and Oikawa is struck with the need to feel how soft his hair is. “What do I do?”

Oikawa tsks and types something else into his phone. “Google says find someone to bang or go to the hospital.” 

“I can’t just work it out myself?”

“I’m pretty sure that still ends with you in the hospital.”

Suga abruptly decides he’s more hot than cold and shrugs off his cardigan, leans back against the couch cushions to tug off his socks. He wiggles his toes against the carpet -- which Oikawa tries really hard not to notice because he doesn’t  _ think  _ he has a foot fetish, but at the moment he’s got a pretty strong Suga-centric fetish and he doesn’t want anything to be awakened in him -- before standing up and making his way towards Oikawa. 

“Suga-chan?” 

Suga shoots him a loaded look. “I don’t want to go the hospital.”

“Do you want to call Sawamura?”

“Daichi has a boyfriend, Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa flails a little, moving his hands in a way Suga assumes is supposed to indicate that Daichi would be better for this job. “But you’re his best friend! Kuroo would understand! Honestly, he’d probably be into it.”

“Shh, Oikawa-san.” Suga presses his index finger to Oikawa’s mouth, letting his fingertip catch a little on his lower lip as he drags it down. “I don’t need Daichi. You’re right here.”

He punctuates his words by letting his hand dip farther down, trailing past Oikawa’s collarbone, and flattening it against his chest. Warmth radiates from his palm through Oikawa’s ribs, stealing his breath as Suga rises up on the balls of his feet and heads for a kiss. 

“I can’t take advantage of you.” Oikawa pushes him away before their lips can touch, ducking his head to avoid Suga’s pout. “You and Dai-chan are close, closer than us, it would be less weird.” 

Suga whines, falling back towards the couch so he can grab his phone. “Oh my god.” 

He mumbles under his breath as he dials a number, something that sounds suspiciously like “how do you not  _ know _ ” before whoever he was calling answers and he says brightly, “Hey, I’m gonna put you on speaker, okay?”

“Okay?” Oikawa holds back a relieved exhale at the sound of Sawamura’s voice.

“Dai, how long have I been texting you about wanting to fuck Oikawa?”

“Uh, three months? Maybe? Why?” He sounds as stunned as Oikawa feels, which is gratifying. 

“Love you, thank you, bye!” Suga throws his phone on the couch, turning back to Oikawa with a self-assured smirk on his face.

It shouldn’t look good on anyone, but apparently Suga can work looking like an asshole. He could take Oikawa’s soul and sell it to the highest bidder on eBay and if Suga smiled at him like that after it was all said and done, he’d thank him.

“You’re  _ not  _ taking advantage of me. This is all a-okay, unless -” Suga takes a step back from the warmth of Oikawa’s body, an impressive feat if how fogged over his eyes are is any indication of lucidity. “Unless you don’t want to?” 

“No, I.” Oikawa swallows. “I want to.”

Suga grins and -- apparently done with the idea of rising to meet Oikawa -- fists a hand in Oikawa’s collar, pulling him down for an open-mouthed kiss. Oikawa doesn’t know if the way Suga kisses is normally this obscene or if the drug is making him desperate, but he’s not complaining. The hand twisted in his collar migrates to his hair and Oikawa follows the tug easily, dropping his head to the side so Suga has easy access to his neck. For a moment he only exists as points of sensation -- Suga’s lips behind his ear, against his throat, trailing to his collarbone, Suga’s fingers slipping under his shirt and along his hip, the pad of each one searing on the soft skin of his stomach. 

When Suga finally pulls away, his hands still in Oikawa’s hair and under his shirt, he’s breathing heavily and obviously hard in his pants. He glances up from under his thick lashes and tilts his head towards his bedroom, says, “C’mon, champ.”

All that’s been in his mouth is Oikawa’s tongue and his voice has already taken on a rasping quality. 

Oikawa’s soul momentarily leaves his body. 

They stumble across the apartment to Suga’s bedroom, taking the time to bump up against the couch and another wall as Suga tries to mold his body to Oikawa’s. It’s hard with how much Oikawa has to curl over to meet his mouth, but Suga’s making a valiant effort of arching his back to keep their chest and hips flush. His hand leaves Oikawa’s hair for a second, tearing a pathetic noise from the back of Oikawa’s throat, and Suga tuts, “Patience, Oikawa-san.”

Honestly, Oikawa thinks, it’s unfair that Suga was the one who got hit and yet he still seems so capable, so in control of the entire situation, while Oikawa is on his way to being an overstimulated mess. Suga grabs Oikawa’s hands from where they were hovering near Suga’s hips and pulls them down to rest on the curve of his ass. He bucks his hips once, causing Oikawa to jump and squeeze the soft flesh under his palms. 

Suga’s exhale turns into a moan and heat gathers near Oikawa’s chin. “Don’t be afraid to touch me.” 

It’s whispered and Suga immediately turns his attention to mouthing along the line of Oikawa’s jaw, but he knows it wasn’t a casual comment -- it was a direction for him. 

He squeezes again and feels the hitch in Suga’s breath against his own chest, dares to sneak a hand under Suga’s sweat-soaked dress shirt, fingers pressing into the sticky skin of his back. Suga breaks away at that, and for a split second Oikawa is terrified he’s fucked this all up, but Suga’s just grabbing his collar again and making a beeline for the bedroom. 

Oikawa’s knees buckle when they hit the edge of the mattress and Suga pushes at his shoulders until he’s satisfied with Oikawa’s position against the headboard. He swings his leg over Oikawa’s lap and grinds down hard on his thigh, letting out a litany of breathy moans until he gets his hands cupped under Oikawa’s chin, long fingers curling around the nape of his neck, and his lips find Oikawa’s again. 

It’s sloppy and ridiculous and Suga seems to know exactly when Oikawa’s lungs are straining for air because he shifts his focus to the column of Oikawa’s throat and how best to mark it up. Suga’s body moves fluidly, beautiful despite his current haggard appearance. His previously neatly-ironed collar is flipped up on one side and stuck against his throat, his jeans are straining, and he’s so, so warm. Oikawa’s hands are still flitting across his heated skin, pressing against the soft padding around his hips and Oikawa wants this done-for-anyway shirt out of the way, so he can see, so he can  _ taste _ . 

“Come on,” Oikawa pants, certain all of the blood in his body is split between his dick and the hickey Suga is sucking into the junction of his neck and shoulder, “can we just get naked already?” 

Suga breathes out, harsh and heavy, and rolls his hips again. “Just let me get this first one.” He rubs his clothed dick against Oikawa’s thigh, hissing at the contact. Oikawa holds onto Suga’s hips as his pace frantically increases, keeping him steady as he comes for the first time with his mouth against Oikawa’s throat. 

“Okay,” Suga leans back and tries to unbutton his shirt with fumbling hands. “Clothes off. Now.” 

Oikawa watches his fingers slip along the buttons and reaches out to cover Suga’s hands with his own. “We have time, Suga-chan.” 

Suga’s hands still for a moment before he gets a wicked grin on his face and tips his hips forward again, nudging the crease of Oikawa’s hips with his already hardening cock. “We really don’t, Oikawa-san.”

He leans in for another kiss, surprisingly gentle until Oikawa parts his lips and it turns into something animalistic, Suga’s teeth scraping against Oikawa’s lower lip as he shifts his hands under Oikawa’s and forcibly pulls the buttons off his shirt. He twists a hand in the fabric of Oikawa’s t-shirt when he surges up on an inhale and draws him even closer, knocking their foreheads together. “You are wearing too damn much.” He then rolls to the side, pushing Oikawa towards the edge of the bed, command clear enough. 

Oikawa strips down and turns back to the bed to see Suga sitting back against the pillows, cock held lazily in his fist while he blatantly rakes his eyes over Oikawa’s slim frame. He managed to grab lube and soak his fingers while Oikawa was undressing and he maintains eye contact as he works one finger in, gasping at the stretch. After a minute of this, he cocks his head. “You coming, big boy?”

Oikawa scrambles back onto the bed, settling between Suga’s plush thighs. “What,” He chokes for a second at a drawn-out moan from Suga, “what do you want me to do?”

Suga laughs, clear and bright and Oikawa thinks, stupidly, that he’s an angel. “I want you to fuck me, Oikawa-san.” He places the half-empty bottle of lube in one of Oikawa’s hands and drags the other between his own legs, dropping his head back on the pillows when Oikawa’s finger tips twitch against his rim. “I know you know how to do this.” 

Oikawa takes the bottle and drizzles lube on his fingers, running his free hand up Suga's thigh and gripping at the curve of his hip as his fingers trace the edge of his hole. There's a groaning sound from overhead as Suga tries to roll down on something but finds nothing there. Suga digs his heel into Oikawa's back to spur him into action and he presses his index finger in, slowly working Suga open.

Suga allows this for about a minute. 

"Come  _ on _ , Oikawa-san," Suga says, reaching down to entangle his fingers in Oikawa's hair. "Is that the best you can do?" 

Oikawa knows he's being goaded and hates that it works, that he tugs defiantly against the hold in his hair and adds a second finger. Suga yanks his hair at that and they both gasp, overwhelmed for different reasons. It takes a moment for Oikawa to get a proper rhythm but soon he can feel Suga squirming from his hold on his side and crooks his fingers in hopes of finding the right spot. He knows he’s got it when Suga wails and the hand in Oikawa’s hair goes slack until he rubs against it again. 

“Fuck me like you mean it.” Suga grinds out, his hold tightening and drawing Oikawa’s head closer and closer to his stomach, so when his second orgasm punches through him most of it lands on Oikawa’s face.

Some of it drips from Oikawa’s eyelash as he continues fingerfucking Suga through it -- Suga’s breathless, desperately trying to fuck himself on Oikawa's fingers, still panting out his teasing words for Oikawa until he manages to coax Oikawa into working in his third finger and Suga gets tired of waiting. 

“Enough.” He pats at Oikawa’s head. “Move.” 

Suga gives Oikawa just long enough to pull his fingers out and sit back a little before he’s flipping their positions and holding Oikawa down by his shoulders, hovering over him like the crow he is and looking immensely proud of himself. Oikawa is embarrassingly into it.

Leaning over, Suga fiddles with something in the bedside drawer and comes back up ripping a condom wrapper with his teeth and rolling it over Oikawa’s cock. After slicking it up with more lube, he glances at Oikawa and asks “Are you ready?” 

He sounds remarkably calm, considering how his hair is sticking to his forehead and there’s a heavy flush across his cheeks, steadily creeping down his neck and chest. 

Oikawa nods. 

Suga dips his head as he sinks down, hands braced against Oikawa’s chest, fingers close to curling around the smooth lines of Oikawa’s collarbones. He doesn’t wait long to get situated and lifts up experimentally, wiggling his hips to try and hit his prostate again. His eyes glint as he focuses and shifts his weight forward. Oikawa’s breath catches under the pressure from Suga’s hands. 

Oikawa’s hands flutter uselessly in the space between the crumpled sheets and Suga’s legs. 

“Oikawa-san,” Suga singsongs, unable to stop completely but slowing his pace to a crawl, “what did we talk about earlier?” 

He clamps his hands down on Suga’s hips and for a fleeting moment is fascinated by the way his fingers brush against each other at the small of Suga’s back and his thumbs almost touch in the front, and then Suga ramps up the pace again, slamming down and crying out when the thrust hits home. Suga is gorgeous, sweat dripping down the exposed line of his throat and Oikawa is caught between staring at him for eternity and dropping his gaze to the side in a twisted form of deference. 

Suga grabs his chin, blunt nails digging into the skin as he twists Oikawa to face him. “Keep your eyes on me.”

It sounds like a challenge and the look in his eyes confirms it. All Oikawa can do is let out a series of harsh pants and hold eye contact while he bucks his hips up into Suga’s heat. Suga whines and grinds down, pushing Oikawa near the edge and he hits it when Suga moans something that sounds incredibly similar to “ _ Tooru _ ” while his legs shake and he comes again, painting Oikawa’s torso with it.

Suga is sloppy and beautiful and spent and Oikawa drives up one more time and lets out a grunt of an exhale as all the tension runs out of his limbs. He pulls Suga down to his chest, laughing when Suga’s nose crinkles up a little bit and he flops over, sliding over the stickiness left on Oikawa’s stomach and curling into Oikawa’s side. He laughs as he turns his head, rubbing his thumb through the mess of drying come on Oikawa’s cheekbone. “You’re messy.”

“Your fault, Suga-chan.” Oikawa murmurs, feeling stupidly soft as he runs his hand over Suga’s freckle-covered arm. “Is it over?” 

“I think so.” Suga presses a quick kiss to the corner of Oikawa’s mouth. “We’ll see.”

“That was fun.”

“Mhm.” Suga snuggles into Oikawa, smushing his nose up against Oikawa’s shoulder so his voice is muffled when he says, “Thank you, Oikawa-san.” 

“Wanna do it again sometime?” 

Oikawa can feel Suga’s toothy smile against his skin. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

 

[...]

 

 **DAICHI:** **  
** Suga what’s happening?   
Suga.  
SUGA.  
Text me when you’re done with ~Oikawa-san~

 **SUGA:** **  
** fuck u  
it was good tho

 **DAICHI:** **  
** What happened? 

**SUGA:** **  
** someone released a class II on campus and i got caught in it but dw ~oikawa-san~ helped out

 **DAICHI:** **  
** Jesus  
You okay?

 **SUGA:** **  
** [img]  
i am now

 **DAICHI:** **  
** Gross

**Author's Note:**

> “Was that for Dai-chan?"  
> “Yeah, he was kind of worried.”  
> “Tell him I took good care of you.”  
> “He knows.”
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/hopewhirl) | [tumblr](https://transvityaa.tumblr.com)


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